The One That Got Away
by That Girl Again
Summary: Summer after the Battle finds Draco and Hermione residing in the same small American town. Living across from each other for a whole year, being the only two who share a secret world? Hm. Sparks will fly. Dramione. Based on Katy Pery's song.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first shot at Dramione so please bear with me. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own _anything. _**

Chapter One

**Draco-PoV**

As I entered the little apartment that would be my new home, I took a deep breath. The first deep breath of freedom. I put the suitcase down on the small bed and looked around the apartment. Small kitchen, even smaller bathroom, and the bedroom was basically the same space as the living room. It wasn't as big as the Manor, but at least it wasn't the streets.

I sighed and began looking around. All the Muggle cooking appliances were in place, there was an outdated TV, the lumpy-looking mattress, the dirty windows and the dusty surfaces. I sighed again.

My decision to move to America had been something I'd thought about thoroughly. For about five minutes. Mother didn't want me to leave, and Father was downright outraged when I walked down, suitcase in hand, telling them I would be going to America for some downtime for myself for at least a year. Father said it was a disgrace. Mother just said she didn't want to lose me, but I assured her after some time I would be back. In the end, through a business trip, my father knew a guy who got me an apartment in a tiny town named Bay View, Washington (state), and we exchanged what would, in American money, be about four thousand Galleons. My parents made sure I knew that if at any time I needed more money, I could ask. But I needed to get a job anyways. Not that I was complaining. Even having never worked a day in my pathetic life, I needed something, _anything_, to keep my mind off the reason I was actually here.

I changed into something more casual and took the map of the town I'd gotten earlier. The little market was just a block away. I considered Apparating, but it's such a small town, with a population of three hundred and seventy-five people, that anyone would notice if anything was off with the new bloke. Right, did I forget to mention, no wizards are here?

I went to the market and bought the simplest things to cook, then went back to the apartment. Was it me, or were all the ladies around here looking at me more than courtesy demanded? I shrugged it off and put my "groceries" away, then magically cooked a simple noodle and chicken soup. Afterwards I showered and changed into pajamas and went to sleep.

Living in an American town, one of the smallest, in a relatively remote state, with no wizards to remind me of the war around. Yep. Should be interesting.

**Hermione-PoV**

"I don't _want_ you to go, 'Mione!" Ron whined for the umpteenth time.

"Doesn't matter how many times you say it, I'm still going," I said firmly. "You're making me marry you, and I need some time to myself. My parents are gone, my schooling is done, and I just need to spend time alone. My aunt is going to make sure I'm fine. I just need _time_."

"I'm not making you marry me," he muttered.

"Indirectly, you are," I said, zipping up my rather large bag. "We've had this talk before, Ronald."

"I didn't understand that time," he said. "You turned me down in front of _everyone_. My whole family, our friends. I don't understand. I thought you loved me."

"I thought so, too," I said. I blinked back tears. Tears that had been trying to escape for two weeks, now. "I really thought I did love you. But if I did, wouldn't I _want _to marry you? Wouldn't I _want_ to be with you forever? I'm really sorry, Ron, I really am."

"But, if you don't want to, why _are_ you marrying me?"

"Did you _see_ everyone's reactions when I said no?" I said, turning to him. "They, along with the rest of the Wizarding World, expect us to marry."

"So?" he said, standing from his previous place at the foot of my bed. "If it's not meant to be, it's not meant to be."

"Do _you_ want to get married?"

"Of course I do, Hermione. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have proposed. But it's a decision made by two people. If one doesn't want it to happen, it doesn't happen. That's just the way it is."

"But everyone expects us to," I said. "And—I—you know. It's what they want. It's what you want. I don't want to let you, or them, down."

"You'd be letting me down by not following your heart," he said softly. "I just don't understand why you have to leave to _America_ for a whole year."

"I told you, I need time for myself," I said.

I leaned against my desk as he came closer. His arms went around my waist like they had a million times before and he leaned closer and closer, his lips brushing mine, like a million times before.

Our relationship had been a thrill since it had started. I'd loved this boy since I met him, and now he was mine! Right? Should have been the love story of the century, right? Apparently not. As soon as he proposed I realized I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with him. And when I said no, I realized I didn't want to disappoint him. I called my aunt as soon as I got home that night, and my aunt offered me a job and an apartment in her town for as long as I wanted, to have time to think things over.

The next day, I announced I was moving to Washington state, where my Aunt Katy had an apartment and a job ready for me, and I'd be going for about a year.

Everyone had questions for me, especially Mrs. Weasley.

But what about the wedding? What about your Healer training? What about the wedding? What about your friends? What about the wedding? What about Ron? What about the wedding? What about the wedding dress and wedding planning? And finally, what about the wedding?

It drove me nuts.

I spoke to Ron and explained the situation to him, and though he said he understood, I knew he was having more trouble with this than he let on. The engagement was on, and though my heart wasn't in it, I had decided to go through with it. It was what people wanted. Who am I to take away what the people want, even if it means compromising my own happiness?

Harry had encouraged me to drop the engagement. Ron was his best friend, yes. But so was I. He was closer to Ron, but the time we spent camping when our friend left forged a bond that would never be broken. Harry knew how much I'd suffered over that ginger, and he knew how much I was suffering now. Putting everyone before me. Some may say noble, others—like Harry—say stupid. Whatever it may be, Harry didn't support it. He supported the relationship, but he didn't support me doing something I didn't want to do, and this wedding was near the top of the list. Second, of course, to a third rise of the Dark Lord, but that was as improbable as—say—Draco Malfoy falling in love with me.

Ginny sided with Harry. She knew how much I cared about Ron, but she insisted it was more of a brother/sister type of love. She said I had confused it with romantic feelings for a long time, but after imagining the rest of my life with him, I realized I wasn't in love with him. And I was just torturing myself trying to making everyone else happy.

They've been trying to convince me for the past two weeks to get out of the engagement, and Mrs. Weasley has been trying to do the opposite. She basically offered to plan the wedding while I'm out and have me revise everything and set a date when I get back. I wouldn't allow her to do this, but her pleading eyes made me so sad. I couldn't take this away from her. Fred was gone, Ginny would soon be marrying Harry, Charlie wasn't going to get married any time soon but wasn't close to home anyways, Percy was hardly ever around, George was trying to put on a brave face only to break apart at the most inopportune moments, and I sometimes felt like one of the only things that made her look forward to a new day. As long as Hermione was around to date Ron and brighten everyone's day, Molly Weasley had a wedding to look forward to. I couldn't do that to Mrs. Weasley. So I was going through with it for her, for Ron and for everyone else.

I sighed as Ron kissed me again. He leaned back and looked in my eyes.

"I'm sorry." He let me go and took a step back.

"No, _I'm_ sorry," I said.

"I know Mum's planning the wedding, and Ginny 's already bridesmaid and all of that, but I _know_ you don't want to do this, love, and if you decide not to go through with this, just tell me," he said.

"Okay, Ron," I said. I pulled on my coat, pulled my purse over my shoulder, grabbed my suitcase and started towards the door.

"Love you," he called out as I was reaching the front door of my flat. Or rather, Luna's, who's renting it for the next year.

"I'm sorry," I replied.

And with that, I Apparated to what would be my new home for the next year or so. Bay View, Washington.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the response to the first chapter, I'd really love to hear some feedback. :)  
On another note, I realize these chapters are really, quite short compared to some others in my other stories, but don't worry, they _will_ get longer as the story progresses.**

**Also, my first attempt at Dramione, so please bear with me.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Enjoy :)**

Chapter Two

**Draco-PoV**

The next morning was a Sunday, and I woke up with a stiffness in my neck and a pain in my lower back. Probably because this mattress' lumpiness beat that of the Hogwarts' mattresses.

I rolled out of bed and made some coffee, just to see what the big whoop was about. I was disappointed. It tasted like hot, bitter dishwater. Blech.

I showered and ate toast and bacon for breakfast, then turned on the TV.

The stupidest shows were on. I mean, _Wizards of Waverly Place_? What is this rubbish? My father _will_ hear about this.

I tried watching some of the rubbish the Muggles make to entertain the rest of their country, and sometimes the rest of the world, but, honestly, _where are their minds_? Some of these shows are preposterous. And mental. And rubbish. Not to mention rubbish.

I shook my head and looked at my wristwatch. It was noon.

I was beginning to see what Mother meant about being so bored and lonely with nothing to do. When you don't have a job and everything is given to you, there's absolutely nothing to do but _be bored_.

I considered napping before deciding against it, knowing then I'd just be up all night.

I cleaned up the apartment, but honestly, I'd been here _a day_. Not much to clean up. I went to the bookstore and picked up a cookbook, some classics and an old movie titled _The Wizard of Oz_. I walked around the small shopping center, looking at the different stores. I could've sworn I saw someone who looked exactly like Hermione Granger. But when I glanced back, the bushy haired girl was gone. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, for sure.

I shook my head and headed back to the apartment. I was getting ready to pop the movie in when someone knocked on my door. Strange, since this whole floor was empty except for me.

"Hello," I said, answering the door.

A tall, pale woman, of no more than forty-five years, is at the door. Her brown curls falling to her shoulders, brown eyes looking around me, judging me by my appearance, brows burrowed in concentration, remind me of someone. The very same someone I saw at the shopping mall earlier that same day.

"Hi," she said, the clear voice again reminding me of Granger. "I just wanted to drop by and say, welcome to Bay View. Also, I noticed you are living alone on this floor, and, well, my niece will be staying in the same complex as well, in this very same floor, too, so to not be surprised if you see her around."

"Alright, thank you for informing me of this," I said. "Um, when is she coming?"

"Well, she wanted to get a few things at the market, so she'll probably be around in a few minutes," the woman said. "My name is Katy Herman, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," I said. The silence was getting to a point where I was about to shut the door when she clapped.

"There she is, just coming up the stairs," Mrs. Herman said. "My, that looks like a heavy bag, would it be too much to ask if you help her with it?"

_Can_ you say no to that?

I opened the door wider and walked along the narrow corridor, making my way to the stairs. The girl's back was to me, but her unruly brown hair reminded me again too much of the Gryffindor Know-It-All to be welcome. She was carrying several grocery bags, a purse and a humongous bag.

"Let me help you with that," I said, taking the bag. I was expecting to suddenly be holding a ton, but the bag was feather-light.

"No, not that—Oh!"

The girl turned around and gasped.

I came face-to-face with Hermione Granger.

**Hermione-PoV**

"Malfoy?" I asked.

"Granger?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" I said, voice twisted with involuntary revulsion. Just what I needed. A year to get away from everything magical and anything to do with my old life, only to be living in the same complex as Draco stinking Malfoy.

"Trying to hide from a monster princess," he said sarcastically. "Bugger, looks like she found me."

"Oh, quit it and help me with these bags, will you?"

Handsome as he always had been, the blond takes my bag, which I'd enchanted to be weightless, and a few others off my arms, then follows me as I walk over to the apartment across from his. Or at least I assumed it was his, since the door is open. Aunt Katy opened my door, handed me the keys and I put my bags down in the kitchen.

Malfoy put the grocery bags in the kitchen beside the ones I'd been carrying, then left my traveling bag on the table.

"So, how do you two know each other?" Aunt Katy asked.

"We, uh, went to school together," I said.

"Oh, I see," she said. "Well, 'Mione, dear, I better leave you to it, then. Check in tomorrow at nine with me and I'll tell you what based on that. Dress for success, dear." She gave me a peck on the cheek and walked out, and a few minutes later, through my window, I saw her walking towards her home.

Malfoy was still here.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" I asked again.

"I had to get away. This seemed like the best bet to start from scratch, alright," he said. "Now, why are _you_ here?"

"Same."

Malfoy started. "What could you _possibly_ want to get away from?"

"None of your business, you prat," I said. "Get out before I hex you."

"Touchy," he said, walking towards the door. Once there, he leaned against the frame and smirked. "If you need anything, I'm literally across the hall."

I slammed the door, trying to ignore his laugh.

God, _why_? Why Malfoy, out of anybody I could've possibly met here in this dreary and diminutive town in the middle of the United States, usually uncharted territory for a Wizarding Brit, why did he have to be the one here? Malfoy, who had tormented me so much in the past. Malfoy, who had fought for the other side in the war last summer. Malfoy, who'd gladly do it all over again. Malfoy. _Why_?

I shook my head and put my groceries away. Good thing I'd lived in a Muggle home, because at least I knew how to work the apartment. I wonder how Malfoy's getting along, being a Muggle-hating pureblood.

I made a quick dinner and showered, then turned on the TV. It got cable, and I flipped the channels till I found something worthwhile. With the TV as background noise, I began unpacking my bag, and put the bag I had of money in a drawer in the bathroom. No way anyone, in case of a robbery, would look in the bathroom. I put my clothes away and went back to the TV, then glanced at my watch. American time zones always confused me, and though it was hardly six in the afternoon here, it was around midnight back home.

_Stop thinking of the Burrow as home_, I chided myself. _This is home now._

I sighed and lay down on the bed.

Living next to Malfoy for a year? Interesting.

**Hmm. I'll try to update this either daily or at least three times a week :) I'd love to hear your feedback so hit up the reviews. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I realize the chapters are quite short, but enjoy these short ones for now, the future holds longer ones :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing :)**

Chapter Three

**Draco-PoV**

The next morning I woke early, having decided to explore the town the previous night.

I showered, made an easy breakfast and at eight forty-five walked out of my apartment. Just as the door across from me closed and the girl turned. She made notice of my presence with a scowl and put her keys in her purse, before swiftly walking off to towards the stairs.

Granger's petite figure was hidden by a cream-colored coat, but she was wearing black heels that looked professional enough for work. Her hair hung past her shoulders and wasn't as bushy and uncontrolled as it had been in their school years, and it was surprisingly a flattering look for her.

"Granger, wait up," I called out playfully.

I know I'm here basically to become a better person, but I have to annoy _someone_, right?

"Shove off, Malfoy," she said irritably. "It's my first day at work and you are _not_ going to bother me before it."

"So I can bother you after it?"

She gave me a look. "Shut up." The exasperation was clear in her voice.

I followed her down the stairs and out of the complex. Just as we passed the first shop, she turned.

"Are you just going to follow me?" she said, exasperated, as she always had been.

I hadn't expected what I saw. Unlike yesterday, she actually cared about her looks—which, considering she was heading towards an interview was a smart thing—and she actually looked good. Gone were the bags under her eyes due to lack of sleep, and she was wearing make up, something she frowned upon during our school days. Her childish bangs were swept aside, her lips red, her whole face just giving an aura of professionalism. Except, of course, the exasperation that washed it over as she expected my answer.

"It's a free country," I said, shrugging.

"Ugh," she said. "Could you please not screw this up for me? I don't have this job yet and just because _you_ have absolutely nothing better to do and just have everything _given_ to you doesn't mean I don't have to work for it." She turned her back to me and kept walking with a grace that I didn't think possible from her, and I felt the need to follow her.

"Where are you going to work, then?" I asked, catching up.

"If you must know, a bookstore," she said.

I snorted. "Typical."

She turned. "I'm not in the mood, Malfoy."

"So it's not just me that's got your knickers in a twist?"

"No, don't pride yourself with that, okay, you prat," she said. She abruptly stopped walking and opened a door, trying to slam it in my face.

I watched as she walked up to the woman behind the counter and was handed a few papers. I walked in and the lady looked at me, smiled warmly and turned back to Hermione.

Wait, _Hermione_? No. It's Granger.

It's always been just Granger. Just an annoying and unfortunate-looking know-it-all. Right?

**Hermione-PoV**

As Lauren, the assistant manager at the bookstore, handed me a few forms for me to fill out, Malfoy walked in. How I know it was him, I haven't the slightest clue, but it seems like the kind of thing he'd do. As always, just winding me up for no reason.

I tried to focus on the papers in front of me and jotting down the correct information, but I couldn't ignore the blond that was chatting away with Lauren, about something as irrelevant as the disgusting taste of coffee.

"Here," I said, handing Lauren the papers. "I think everything's in order."

"Right, then, Ms. Granger," the older woman said. "If Katy's indications are correct, you're more than well-suited for this job, but I'd still like to see you come back in tomorrow and do the interview."

"That wasn't today?" I asked.

"No, honey, I'm sorry, the manager is out and I don't handle those types of things," Lauren said, her green eyes apologetic. I could hear Malfoy snickering beside me. "He'll be back in tomorrow, don't you worry."

"Oh, alright, then," I said. "I'll just come back tomorrow at this time?"

"Oh, no, dear," she said. "He comes in at noon."

"Then I'll be back after lunch?" I asked. She nodded. "Alright, thank you."

I walked towards the door, waving once more, before opening the door.

"Nice meeting you," Malfoy said loudly. "BYE!"

And then he was next to me.

"Pathetic, Granger," he started, following me as I walked back to the apartment. "You get up early, get all dressed up, and then, poof, nothing. Really, it would've been better to just not go at all."

"Look, Malfoy," I said, spinning around to face him. "Nothing is being handed to me by anybody like it's being handed to you." I took a breath. "My parents can't give me anything, _anything_, and all I have is my aunt, who is graciously getting me this job and paying this rent until I can do it by myself. And meanwhile, if you're not going to do anything in this country except try to make my life as miserable as you tried to do when we were still at school, then just go somewhere else. I _really_ just want to be alone."

He was silent. I took a deep breath and continued walking down the street. I walked past the apartment complex, straight towards a small park I'd seen my first day here. As I cross the street, someone takes my arm and stops me.

"Let go of me!"

"Granger," Malfoy said.

"Yes?"

"Stop."

"I'm in the middle of a bloody street, I don't think that's very wise," I shot back. I crossed the street, the blond boy still holding my arm, and sat on a bench. "Now _let go of me_."

He immediately let go and sat beside me. "I—look, I came here because I needed to escape everything I did and everything that happened at Hogwarts. I made every mistake that everyone said I would, and I regret not doing what I thought was right every day. I came here because I can't stand to see the look on my father's face every time someone brings up something from the battle. Or my mother's every time anyone says anything about Potter. I needed to leave. I can't stand knowing what I did, and so I escaped the consequences. A terribly cowardly thing to do, but I felt like I didn't have a choice. And then you appear. Not only does it remind me of everything wrong that I did, but you also bring along a secret that no one else understands. There's no one like us here, and we have to keep it that way. And—"

"What does any of that have to do with me?" I asked. "I understand what you were trying to do, and while it's extremely cowardly, it's also very much like you. I just don't understand why you're sharing this with me, if I just remind you of the very reason you left, also, you hate me."

"Granger, it's obvious we're going to be crossing paths quite consistently in the next year, considering we're living in the same floor, and I just don't want it to be like Hogwarts," he said. "If there's going to be someone here with the same secret, I wouldn't want to have to try to co-exist with that person, instead I'd like to at least be civil towards each other."

"You want a clean slate?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Putting everything that's happened behind us and just start from the pretense that we're just two people with the same secret, instead of everything that's actually true," I said.

"Are you possibly insinuating a friendship of sorts?"

I laughed. "Not in the slightest. Just what you want. Co-existing without trying to hex each other every few minutes."

"I think that would be good," he said. I nodded.

I looked around. It was a nice day, blue sky, a bit chilly, but what was to be expected? It was already mid-October.

"So, are you going to tell me the reason you left?" Malfoy asked after a while.

"Excuse me, I don't share my deep, personal stories with strangers," I said, smirking. "That's what we are." He looked at me incredulously. "Not here, at least. It seems inappropriate."

"Let's get some of that horrific coffee then, and you can tell me all about it," he said, standing and offering me a hand. I laughed and stood.

"I don't usually go for coffee with strangers, but it _is_ a way to get to know you better," I said. "Come on, I saw a nice little café down the block."

We walked down to the café and entered.

"Just one thing," he said. "I tried coffee. It's ghastly."

"Where'd you try it?" I asked, getting in line, looking at the menu.

"Um.. I might have tried to make it," he said, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

"Well, this is _good_ coffee," I said. "And if you don't like it, I'll have it. Now tell me what you want."

"We're in a coffee shop, I think it's quite obvious," he said. "You know, for someone so mart, I expected more of you."

"Are you stupid?" I said. "There's different coffee," I said. "And if you don't like it, I'll have it. Now tell me what you want."

"We're in a coffee shop, I think it's quite obvious," he said. "You know, for someone so mart, I expected more of you."

"Are you stupid?" I said. "There's different _types_ of coffee. Just look up there."

A moment passed. "What the bloody hell is _mocha_?"

And that was pretty much when I burst out laughing.

**Tell me what you think, as in, review :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is a bit longer, as I promised. :) Also, I'm getting back to school pretty soon and I have a _huge_ workload that awaits me, and so I won't be able to post every day, or even every other day, I guess. I'll still try and update as much as I possibly can :)**

**Also, any Glee fans, especially Klaine shippers? If you are, PM me! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, hun. :)**

Chapter Four

**Draco-PoV**

Perhaps starting off on the right foot with Granger was a better idea than what I'd originally planned.

I mean, I'd basically just decided to torment her like I was so used to doing years ago, before things turned serious, but she made me realize it really shouldn't be this way. If we _were_ going to be living in such close proximity, it really would be a bother to be constantly fighting, right?

The clean slate idea, that was brilliant. That meant that we could start anew, as if we were merely strangers. This could be an advantage and a disadvantage. Advantage because it means that hypothetically we held no animosity towards each other and everything was new, no judgment, just two people getting to know each other. Disadvantage because it would be that much harder not to judge, what we knew about each other constantly sitting in our minds as we conversed.

She ordered mocha Frap, and it was all I could do not to stare. "What did you order?"

"An iced mocha," she said easily. "Mocha is coffee and chocolate. It's quite good, way better than just coffee."

"And you, what'll you be having?" the guy behind the counter asked.

"Uh… same as her," I said on a whim.

"Name?"

"Draco," I said. The guy smirked. "Think my name's funny, do you?"

The guy's eyes widened. "No," he said defiantly. "Is that all?"

I looked at Hermione. She nodded. "Yes."

"That'll be $4.58," he said.

I handed over the money, got back some change and sat down at one of the tables across from Hermione.

"You shouldn't have gotten so defensive, you know," she said.

"Hm?"

"With the guy," she said. "I had a conversation with him yesterday. I came in before going to meet with my aunt and the place was empty and we got talking. He's a really intelligent guy who only smirked because he knows draco is Latin for 'dragon' and was probably reminded of one of his role-playing games or something. You don't have to be so defensive all of the time."

I stayed silent, choosing to look out the window.

"HERMIONE," someone called out. "DRAH-CO."

"Seriously?" I got up, motioning for her to stay. I got our drinks at the front and went back to the table, handing the one with her name to her.

She smiled warmly, the surprise evident in her eyes. "Thank you," she said, taking a sip. She noticed my reluctance. "Oh, come on, it's good. Ten times better than tea."

I tentatively raised the cup to my lips. "Not bad," I said. "So, tell me why you're here."

"I had to get away," she said. "At least for a while." She looked out the window, a wistful expression on his face. "You know Ron proposed?"

I nearly choked on my coffee. "And why are you here, then?" I asked, surprised. "Weasel's the twerp you've been pining over for the better part of like, _forever_, and he proposed and you _ran away_?"

"That's not starting from a clean slate," she said in a sing-song voice, wiggling her finger at me. Then she sighed. "I thought, I really did, that I loved him. But I just—I can't imagine being with him. I can't imagine myself standing next to him at our wedding, or taking our children to Hogwarts, or—or even _having_ his children. I can't imagine the rest of my life with him. I—I thought I loved him, and I do, just not the way he feels about me. And really, I'm here to see if I miss him, if I wish I was back. To see if I can live a different life without him, or if I truly need him. And I've got a year. When that year's up, I go back to marry him."

I stared at her, wide-eyed. "So you're not in love with him, but you're going to marry him?" She nodded. "That is the _dumbest_ thing I ever heard. And knowing Crabbe and Goyle I heard some pretty stupid things throughout seven years at Hogwarts." She laughed. "I'm not joking. Does being with him make you happy?"

"It used to," she said. "If you'd asked me this question a year ago, it would have been all I wanted."

"But now…?"

"But now, I just don't think I have it in me," she said, taking a sip. "The past two weeks, any time he would come over and tell me he loved me, or kiss me, or even held my hand, I just felt incredibly uncomfortable. It was something I couldn't help. I knew I wasn't reciprocating, and I felt like I had to, and I just felt awful. I _still_ feel awful."

"If it makes you unhappy, why are you going through with the wedding?"

"Because it's what everybody wants," she sighed. "His parents, our friends—except Harry and Ginny, they actually want me to be happy—and I just feel like it's what everybody expects of me… And I don't like letting people down."

"So you're going to sacrifice your own happiness over everyone else's?"

"Yes," she said.

I burst out laughing.

"I knew this nice Malfoy could only last so long," she muttered.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," I said. "Why would you decide that you can't be happy just so a few people get what they want?"

She shrugged. "We'll get to the topic of me being nice later, right now, I'd like to talk a bit more about this." I paused. "Have you ever thought about things that happen?" She laughed. "No, I'm serious. I believe things happen for a reason. Example, if Weaslette hadn't dated the Gryffindor Chaser in Sixth year, Potter wouldn't have realized his feelings for her, and they wouldn't be together. Another example, if you hadn't gone to the Yule Ball with Krum, Weasel wouldn't have realized there were more than just friendly feelings he was harboring for you. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"A bit, I think," she said. "So you're saying that, maybe, if I didn't realize I wasn't in love with Ron, he, say in the future, wouldn't find someone else? Someone better for him than me?"

"That could be a possible scenario," I said slowly. "The thing with this is, you can't really tell. But you have to go with your heart, or how else will you be happy?"

"Draco Malfoy wants me to be happy. Huh. This day keeps getting weirder and weirder."

I smirked. "I _am_ a gentleman, I just didn't realize you were worth being a gentleman to until it was too late to actually act on it," I said. "And since we're starting on a clean slate now, what the hell."

"Ah, the 'what the hell' situation," she said, a smile on her face. "You know, Ginny and I had a lot of those before Sixth year. Ah, those were the good days."

"Yeah, for you, maybe," I said, suddenly in a bad mood. "Your father hadn't been thrown in Azkaban and you weren't behind handed what basically turned out to be a suicide mission that you couldn't even complete."

Her face visibly paled and her eyes widened. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You know that year, I never got a full night's sleep," I said, a bitter laugh escaping my throat.

"I really am sorry you had to go through that," she said, her voice _dripping_ sincerity.

"But we're here now," I said, trying to change the subject. "And since we don't know _anything_ about what's happened in the past, I suggest we go back to our apartments and get settled. We _are_ in America, the only two wizards around, we need to blend in with the Muggles."

"Oh, I can help with that," she said, a sly grin on her face. "How much money do you have?"

**Hermione-PoV**

My eyes widened as he told me the obscene amount of money he had.

"I've never even _seen_ that much money in my _life_," I said. "Dear _God_, what are you planning to do with it?"

"Survive."

"No kidding," I said. "With this, you could probably survive _and_ pay everything I need and _still_ have left over for when you go back."

"Are you insinuating something?" he asked, smirking. "Charity, possibly?"

I smacked his arm. "Considering I'm looking for a job and you've got everything you need just handed to you right here, that wouldn't be so bad, actually, to have a little money. But I'd never do that."

"Do what?"

"Ask for money," I said.

He sighed. "How much money do you have?"

We were standing in his kitchen, the TV on and a plate of strawberries completely ignored just sitting there on the counter. He'd asked me to help him sort through his money to tell him how much he would need to buy standard Muggle things (which I'd then have to teach him how to use) and what he'd need to save in order tro live comfortably for the next year.

"About maybe less than a quarter than this, I think," I said. His eyes widened. "I'm getting a job, you know? And it's not like I'm going to buy myself expensive Muggle things."

"Why don't you have more money? I mean, if your parents were okay with you coming here they shouldn't have left you to your own devices," he said. I flinched. "I'm serious. My parents, yeah they gave me enough to feed this town for a week, probably, but yours didn't give you enough to feed yourself for three months."

Tears were threatening to spill and I turned away, willing them to go back.

"Hey, is something wrong?" His voice was incredibly soft and for a moment I forgot I was talking to _Draco Malfoy_, and he could have been anyone. Any compassionate and logical and sweet person I'd ever met. But then, of course, it _was_ Draco Malfoy. And nothing—not even the fact that he was being the nicest person I'd encountered in a long time, and exactly the kind of person that I needed now to take my mind off everything back home—was going to change that. "You know, _just_ because we're doing the whole strangers thing doesn't mean you can't tell me things. Granger, I—hell, I promise you, I'm not the same prat I was before. Really. I'm here so I can change that. I came here so I could be myself. Because the stupid prat you knew before was what everyone expected of me. _This_ is who I really want to be."

I laughed. "You want to be nice to a Muggleborn who's about to cry?" And then the tears slipped.

And I will never, in my life, be able to explain this to _anyone_—_EVER_—but somehow, my face ended up against his chest, burying myself against the world in his chest, his arms around me. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said. "Tell me what's wrong?"

"I—uh," I started. I sniffed and pulled my head back, looking at him. "In the summer last year, I realized it was too dangerous for my parents, who had no idea what was going on, and so I wiped their memories and sent them to Australia. They had no idea who I was, or who _they_ were—I created completely different lives for them, just so they could be safe. After the war was over, Harry and Mrs. Weasley persuaded me to try to get them back, so I went to Australia and searched for them. I spent a month and a half tracking and going through everything to find them. Apparently, one of their biggest ambitions had been to sky dive, and the instructor had miscalculated the winds that day, and instead of dropping safely on the landing, they were blown into a mountain. Nobody ever found them."

And then he was pushing me back into his chest and tears were pouring out of my eyes. All the tears I hadn't allowed myself to spill so I could be strong for the people that were my family now—the Weasley's. After the initial shock of finding out about my parent's deaths, I shed a few tears. Then I went home and after telling everyone what happened and why I wasn't back with my parents, we never spoke about it again.

And I hadn't. Until now.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," he whispered. "I am."

I sucked in a breath. "So basically, that's the reason I have a small amount of money."

"You tell me this whole heart wrenching story to get to _money_?" he laughed. I nodded, a sly look on my face despite the tears that were no longer spilling out but still on my cheeks. "Oh, uh, you kind of…"

"What?"

"You.. your make up kind of spilled," he said. "Here." He grabbed a napkin from the counter and gently—basically—stroked my face with it. Trying to get the make up out.

My breath caught in my throat. My heartbeat quickened. _What is this?_

"There," he said, standing back. "Now you look just like the girl I used to tease, except her hair was way bigger." He smirked.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, waving a hand. "I should get back to my apartment. Change into something more comfortable, wash my face, have some lunch."

"Oh, alright," he said, walking towards the door. He opened it swiftly and held a hand out, gesturing.

"Bye," I said. "If you need anything, knock." I smiled before entering my own apartment, a feeling of loss overtaking me as soon as I closed the door.

What the hell is wrong with me?

**Review and tell me what you think, any thoughts :)**

**Remember, if you're a Klaine shipper, PM me :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**I know it's way later than expected, but this is longer than the previews few. Okay, once again, bear with me here, and any comments or contrustive criticism (to make the story as best I can) can be left in the form of a review. **

**Also, anybody recommend anything for me to read. Whether it's a fanfic, or a book or anything, I'm just so bored with what I have. :/**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing :)**

Chapter Five

**Draco-PoV**

The next morning, I heard her door slam shut quite early.

I shuffled around, looking out the window to see if I could spot her anywhere. I sighed, getting out of bed and showering quickly and having a piece of toast for breakfast. I ran down the stairs and looked around wildly for her, trying to guess where she could have gone. She was due at the book store after lunch, after all. After realizing how stupid it really was to think I'd just _guess_ where she was, I decided to go to the café from yesterday and maybe have a proper breakfast.

I summoned a few Muggle bills and put them in my pocket, then shoved my hands in my coat pockets—because, really, it was _quite_ cold for the middle of October—hunched my shoulders and walked in the general direction of the café.

A few people walking down the street glanced in my direction, but I ignored them. _So what if people stare at you?_ I thought. _Shouldn't you be used to it by now?_ But I wasn't. For once, I was being stared at for being _new_, not for being expected to meet everyone's expectations and then be judged on them.

Finally, I found the café and walked inside, everyone looking as the tinkling of a bell signaled my entrance. I kept my head down and got behind a petite girl in line. Her brown hair was in a ponytail, she had a dark blue scarf around her neck, her torso covered in a cream colored coat. Her hands were in her pockets, too, but she looked way more at ease than I did.

"What will you be having, miss?" the girl behind the counter asked her.

"Um, one of those jumbo chocolate chip cookies, please, and a mocha frap," she said, her clear voice making it almost impossible for me not to think of Hermione. "Wait! Do you guys do breakfast?"

"If by breakfast you mean we make toast and the like, then yes," the barista said. "What happened?"

"Ugh, don't even get me started," the girl said. "I'm surprised my whole kitchen didn't burn down. But hey, at least I'm safe, right?" She laughed. "Anyway, add to my order just a piece of toast."

"That'll be $11.55," the barista said. "Name?"

"Hermione," the girl—obviously Hermione—said.

"It'll be ready in a few minutes, but I advise you to wait here," the barista said as Hermione handed over the money. "For some reason, it makes the guys work faster when they _see_ the hungry customer." Hermione laughed.

"Alright," she said, a small smile on her face.

"And couldn't you get anyone to help you?" the barista asked Hermione, basically ignoring the fact that a line was forming. "Like a roommate or a neighbor?"

"Oh, I've only got one neighbor and I didn't want to bother him," Hermione replied. "I'm pretty sure he's still asleep, but he'll be around to bother me some time in the next three hours."

The barista laughed and extended her hand. "Darcy." Hermione shook her hand. "Nice to meet you. Maybe after this shift is over we could talk for a bit? I hardly have _any_ friends here apart from my roommate and I get a feeling that I'd like you if I got to know you."

"Sure," Hermione said easily. "When's the shift over?"

"About forty-five minutes," Darcy said. "I get the really early morning shift until ten, when it's at its busiest because of all the people coming to pick up breakfast or coffee before work."

"Alright, I'll stick by," Hermione said. "Nice meeting you, but there's a line forming."

Darcy's blue eyes widened and Hermione snickered. "I'll be over there." Hermione moved a bit further, still not by the tables but not far from the cashier, looking around.

"And what will you be having?" asked Darcy, a small smile on her face.

"A mocha frap and a croissant," I said.

"Will that be all?" I nodded. "That'll be $9.87."

I handed her the money and she gave me the change, asking my name. "Draco."

She smiled and gave me a receipt, then turned to the next customer. I moved a bit further and stood a foot away from Hermione. She was somehow busy playing with a button on her coat, but she looked up as they called out my name, placing a plate and cup on a small table.

I reached over to grab my breakfast and Hermione handed me a straw. "Didn't realize you were here," she said, looking up at me.

Her face was almost clear of make up, but instead of making her look younger or less put together, it made her look mature—almost beautiful. But I'd categorized girls—_all _types of girls—and girls like Hermione _weren't_ beautiful. Right?

I shook my head and smiled at her. "I'll just be over there, having breakfast." I turned. "And just by the way, I think I'm not asleep."

I walked towards the back, choosing a table where I was sure I could see everything and everyone in the café. Including, but not limited to, Hermione. Years down the road, I would realize that this was the moment when everything changed. Obviously, I had no knowledge of the shift _now_, but in time, I would.

I watched Hermione silently, eating and drinking at random intervals. Once she got her order—and, _my God_, was that a big cookie—she sat at a small table for two by the window. She ate eagerly, oblivious to my watchful eyes. Once she finished her toast, she opened her admittedly large purse and brought out a paperback. It looked fairly new, and her interest in it was quite intriguing. For all I knew, she could be plotting a murder, and it was still amazing to watch her so incredibly _absorbed_ in just words. It was like nothing around her really was there. The only thing there was her and the words printed on the pages.

She broke off pieces of the cookie and popped them in her mouth absently, taking a sip of her coffee every now and then. Before I knew it, completely and somewhat creepily, I admit, fifty minutes had passed and the barista—Darcy—had walked over and sat across from Hermione.

Her blond hair no longer in a braid, it hung past her shoulders, and it clashed with the color of her sweatshirt—a bright green. She opened her mouth, and I wished I could hear what they were saying, for some unknown reason.

But then, _I could. _I'm a wizard, and a highly qualified one at that. I quickly cast the spell and suddenly, it was like both girls were having the conversation next to me.

"..lived here for about four months," Darcy was saying. "It was stupid, really, the reason I came here."

"Do tell," Hermione said. "I bet mine is worse."

"Well, I'd been dating this guy—Rick—for about a year, since the beginning of senior year," Darcy said. "If you were me at the time, you would've seen the appeal. I was having a rebellious phase because my mom was getting married to this guy that I didn't like, and all my friends were just all so happy, with their boyfriends and perfect grades and perfect hair and everything was just peachy for them, and I just felt out. So I was at this party one night, and this guy—completely not my type—starts flirting with me. You know what that means, right?" Hermione chuckled and nodded. "Well, yeah, he gets me a beer and we start talking, and I learn that he's like two years older than me, lives alone and is the lead singer for a band. And he was so totally hot, I couldn't believe he was talking to me, right? So when he offered to drive me home, I thought that was that. We ended up doing it in the back of his car."

Darcy had the decency to blush, and I could tell Hermione was slightly scandalized by the set of her shoulders.

"He called me the next day and said we should hang out, and we ended up somehow doing it again on the couch at his place. Then we started dating, and _of course_ my mom was scandalized. She thought it was just a phase, but when a guy like that comes along, she was worried. I didn't care, and I spent all my time with him. Anyway, when I graduated, he said he wanted me to move in with him, and I said okay, since I really didn't have any college plans for this year, anyway. Then one day he disappeared and left a note saying if I really loved him I'd follow him here. Because I was seventeen and absolutely _stupid_, I did. And I found him making out with some other girl in a motel room.

"And of course, all my money had been spent in finding a place to live and actually getting here, so I tried to get a job and here I am, four months later, stuck in this small town, not doing anything with my life. Now, tell me about you."

"Can't you call your parents and ask for help, at the very least?" Hermione asked, her voice full of concern. Concern that this Darcy didn't deserve. Everything that had happened to the blond girl had been brought on by her.

Darcy shook her head. "My pride won't let me. I know my mom's married by now, and since I didn't get the invite, I suppose I'm just not important anymore. And my dad—well, he probably either thinks I'm at Community College or at Mom's place. Now, spill. Why are _you_ here?"

"I was running away from problems at home," Hermione started, sighing. "Nothing like yours, but they're my problems." She paused, probably judging how much she could tell to this strange girl sitting in front of her. "I had two best friends, both guys, both people I loved very much—and still do. I thought I'd been in love with one of them basically since I met him, at barely eleven years old. Then _finally_, in June he got the guts and kissed me. And it was basically perfect. Until it wasn't. A few weeks ago, he proposed." Darcy gasped. "And I realized I really didn't want to be with him for the rest of my life. I asked for a time-out and left home. And here I am. Been here for a few days."

"_Married_? How old are you?" Darcy asked.

"Eighteen," Hermione said.

"_Crap_, he really wanted to get married at such a young age?" Darcy asked.

"Where we're from, it's not that unusual to marry straight out of school," Hermione replied. "I—maybe, I don't know. If I _did_ love him, maybe I would have accepted."

"At _eighteen_?"

"It wasn't _all_ that uncommon," Hermione defended again. "But I didn't, so there." Darcy nodded, a small grin forming on her face. "So, tell me more about yourself."

"Well, I like reading, I obviously like coffee, I love my super old iPod to bits, and I'm not all that into fashion," Darcy offered.

"Oh, I absolutely _love_ reading, coffee is the one guilty pleasure I allow myself, I don't have an iPod but I love music regardless, and I've never really had time for fashion," Hermione said. "My school had uniforms, and when we weren't in uniforms, anything we wore was usually covered in coats and jackets, so mostly I wore jeans and T-shirts."

"_You don't have an iPod_?" Hermione shook her head. "How do you survive?"

"Well, I didn't have the time when I was in school, and now I don't have the money to get one yet," Hermione said. "When I do have the money, I think I'm buying the iPhone. That's both things I want and need in one."

Darcy nodded enthusiastically. And then they were off, talking about books and Top 40 music that I'd never even _heard_ of, and bands and actors and TV shows that were apparently good, and while listening closely, I could feel myself getting somewhat bored.

"So, since you don't know anybody here, and I could use the company, how would you like to come to a party on Friday?" Darcy asked.

"A party? I don't know," Hermione said. "I'm not much of a party person."

"Alright, well, why don't you think about it and get back to me?" Darcy said. "Just stop by any time and if I'm not here tell any of the guys to tell me. I have a shift at one of the fancier restaurants now, so, I gotta go. Sorry. Bye." And she stood, shouldered a bag and walked off, leaving Hermione alone.

She checked her watch, sighed, put her book in her bag and stood, looking around one last time before leaving.

And leaving me with a roundabout thought of _why did I just sit here for an hour listening to their conversation?_

**Hermione-PoV**

Meeting Darcy and hearing her story was strange enough, but knowing Draco was listening was just _bizarre_.

Yeah, you didn't think I would notice, did you, Malfoy?

My job interview was just courtesy, the manager said. He knew—somehow, and I don't even want to get into that—that I was an outstanding student, incredibly intelligent, and had a deep appreciation for literature, so I'd be perfect to work in the store. For now, I was just set to organize the books in each section every hour on the hour, and I was set to work from eight to noon, lunch break and then one to four on weekdays, and noon to seven on Saturdays, which I thought was perfectly reasonable considering the generous amount of money I'd be receiving at the end of the week. In a month, I'd be able to hold a phone, daily trips to the coffee shop for breakfast, and a small shopping spree at the end of the month with what was left, including the payments for living, water and electricity.

"Thank you, sir," I said, standing and shaking Mr. Anderson's hand.

"No, Miss Granger, thank _you_," he said, beaming. "It's not every day we get someone so eager to work here, especially with the way books are being treated nowadays."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, because most people can buy eBooks via their iPads or phones or tablets or eReaders or _whatever_, not many people are actually coming out to buy _books_." He shook his head. "Anyway, you start tomorrow, be here at eight, and remember, jeans and one of the polos Angie will hand you when you ask her. See you tomorrow."

"Alright, see you then," I said.

Walking out of the office, I looked around to find Angie, the employee that would apparently hand me my uniform.

"Looking for me?" a voice that was absolutely not Angie said from behind me.

"No, not particularly," I said. "Ah, there she is."

"Are you the new girl?" an employee asked me. Her black hair in a braid, huge glasses that hid her green eyes, she smiled at me. I nodded. "Come to the back, I'll help you pick out the best colors and sizes. It can be confusing, and I've been working here for ages."

I followed her to the back, where there were boxes upon boxes piled up against the wall. Angie lifted the box on top and was noticeably struggling when—

"Do you want some help with that?" Draco asked.

Right. I'd forgotten he was here.

Angie looked startled. "Sure."

He took the box and placed it on the floor, then looked at her expectantly. When she shook her head, he moved to stand next to me.

"That's really sweet," she remarked absently, opening the box. "What size are you?"

"Uh, small, I guess?"

"How many days you working here?" she asked, rummaging through the fabrics.

"Six," I said.

"Alright, here are all the colors in your size, you can have four free shirts, and if you want to buy any more, they're $12.50 each," Angie said. "Just pick one and see if it fits you, they usually run smaller than the rest. I'll be at the counter when you're done."

I thanked her and took off my coat, unbuttoning my blouse, revealing the white cami I had on before I realized Draco was still there, looking straight at me.

"Do you _mind_?" I asked, trying in vain to cover up. He turned around, smirking. I sighed. "Get out."

"I'll wait for you," he said. "I need you to accompany me somewhere anyways."

"And where would _that_ be?" I asked, pulling the cami over my head and taking the first polo I saw.

"Cell phone shopping," he said simply, his voice still close by.

"Leave," I said as pulled the light blue polo over my head. I heard footsteps retreating and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

I adjusted the polo around my body, but it felt a bit too tight. I guess they_ did_ run smaller. I sighed and picked random medium from the box, put it down and started shrugging off the too-small polo. Only, I couldn't get it past my elbows. _Bloody hell_.

What could I possibly do? It would be extremely difficult to take it off on my own, not to mention it would take longer than necessary, and if I tried to do it by force, I'd probably end up either ripping or damaging or ruining it. But what else could I do? It's not like I could ask Angie for help. I didn't know her, and she was busy handling the shop on her own at this time.

_Draco isn't busy_.

I could _not_ ask Draco to come and help me take off my shirt. There was no plausible way to do that. No damn way.

"Hey, Granger, you done?" his voice called out.

"Uh—actually…" I sighed. "I think I need your help."

I heard footsteps coming my way and pulled the shirt back down quickly. He appeared in front of me and looked at me expectantly. "Yes?"

"This sounds incredibly wrong in every single way possible, but can you help me get this shirt off?" His eyes bulged and his pinched and pale face grew paler—something I'd thought was impossible. Then his cheeks grew went red as tomatoes and he looked down. "It's too small and I'm afraid I'll rip it if I try getting it off myself."

Then he smirked, looking up. "Granger, you're taking this clean slate thing a _bit_ too far, don't you think?"

"Just try to pull it off from the back," I muttered, turning my back to him and gently raising my arms above my head.

And then his hands, warm against the cool atmosphere of the room, were on the waistband of my jeans, clutching the hem of the polo. He gently tugged it upwards until I felt the back of my bra exposed, and then I pushed it off myself and tossed it on top of the box, grabbing the medium without turning. I shrugged it on and adjusted it, feeling this fit was better.

"Turn around," Draco said, the smirk evident in his voice. I turned, sending a glare his way. "Nah, I like the other one better." I smacked his arm and pushed him out, then taking the shirt off, pulling on my own clothes, buttoning up my shirt and leaving my coat open. I grabbed four medium shirts at random and walked back to the front of the shop, handing them over to Angie. She put them in a blue bag with the logo of the shop, gave them back to me and waved.

I walked out of the shop, still feeling more embarrassed than I had in a very long time. Draco Malfoy did _that_ to me, bring back the embarrassment and humiliation I hadn't felt since fourth year, probably.

Speak of the devil..

**Yes, I do realize Draco is a bit OOC, but bear with me here. Anyway, the last scene in this was something that came to my mind and I just _couldn't_ not do it. So, awkward moment there! ;) So yeah, review and tell me what you think :) **


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

**Draco-PoV**

Hermione's shirt had been way too tight for comfort, that much was clear. The thoughts that ran through my head when she asked me to help her get if off…I surprised myself with how specific they got.

Of course, seeing a girl's back wasn't the most provocative thing I'd seen in my life, especially having the Slytherin girls in my year be how they were, but it did something to me that seeing the better part of Parkinson's chest didn't.

The smooth, creamy-looking skin, that looked so soft, so tempting to just reach out and touch, so just indescribable. Well, this was certainly new. Tugging the shirt upwards and revealing the back of a rather lacy bra had my eyes widening and I hastily left Hermione to it, looking at the floor.

_Get a grip, Malfoy_. The rational part of me was saying.

After a snarky comment, I left her to it and walked out, trying to stop the thoughts that followed when imagining Hermione putting her cami on back there, a thin piece of cloth that hung to her petit figure splendidly. Of course, when she came out, her blouse and coat were also in place, and some of the shorter hairs had escaped her ponytail. I decided to wait outside sitting on a bench than standing around like an idiot. Which I was, but still, no harm in denial, right?

When she came out, a bag on her arm and a smile on her face, looking flushed, I looked up. "Hello," I said.

"Hi," she said. "You said you needed help with something?"

"Ah, yes," I said. "But first, lunch. I'm starving."

She smirked. "Boys never _do_ stop eating, do they?" she muttered. "Alright, you go on ahead, I'll drop these off at home and see what I can do about my kitchen."

I frowned as she turned. "Granger," I said, surprising even myself when I spoke. She turned, looking confused—which had to be something new for her—and it was just the most adorable thing I'd ever seen.

_Ahem. Wait, what? Adorable? …the hell, Malfoy, your head's in the gutter. Stop thinking about Granger!_

"Yes?"

"Nothing, forget it," I muttered, then turned and started walking towards the general area of the mall, where I'd seen the food court was quite extensive, trying to ignore the plunging feeling in my stomach.

Once arriving in the food court, my appetite was completely gone. All I wanted was to be with Hermione, and I couldn't explain why. I just wanted to talk to her, watch a movie with her, listen to records with her, learn about her, get to know her, like I'd never given myself the chance for at school.

So I got something quick to eat and went back to the apartment complex, knocking on Hermione's door rapidly.

"Yes?" she called out, opening the door.

She'd changed from her formal working clothes to something much more casual, and for some reason, much more appealing to me. Her hair, previously in a tight ponytail, was now in a complete disarray that was probably supposed to be a braid, all around her face. Her cheeks were flushed and there was a small smile on her face.

"Uh, are you done eating?" I said, eyeing her up once more, taking in her jeans and oversized blue shirt, an apron over it.

"Actually, I just finished up cooking," she said. "I've never been a good cook, but I decided to give it a try since I'll be living by myself now. Do you want to come in?"

"Sure," I said easily, slipping past her as she closed the door. "But I thought you said your kitchen nearly burnt down?"

"It did, actually, this morning," she said, returning to the kitchen as I sat on the sofa, looking around. "It was the toaster. I knew I had zero chance of making any good coffee, so I made some toast for the walk over to the shop, and the toaster kind of just exploded, if you can believe that." She was walking around the whole apartment, setting up silverware and a jug of water, a glass, and then running back to the kitchen as if to check on whatever she was making, then go run around again, making her words seem absent and breathless. "I didn't feel like fixing it and all that jazz in the morning, so I just froze it and left it for when I came back later. I just used a simple spell, is all." She looked up at me watching her, then smacked herself in the forehead. "So silly of me, would you like some of my experimental first meal?" she laughed.

"What is it?" I asked cautiously, following her game.

"Well, it's _supposed _to be the easiest thing to ever make, but it's also the easiest thing to get wrong," she said. "Pasta. Spaghetti, to be more specific."

"How do you make it?"

"…Just like—like my mum used to," she said. She lowered her eyes and took in a breath, and I just wanted so badly to hug her, bring her to me and tell her it was alright. "Just dumping the pasta in." She laughed a bit. "You can add tomato sauce and parmesan cheese, but apart from that, not much more." She smiled a bit, albeit sadly, then went back to the kitchen.

"Sure," I called out.

"Then get a plate, it's ready," she said.

She was already serving her pasta on a plate, grabbed a similar one and served some on it, then walked back to the table and set it down. "Get your stuff," she said, pointing towards the kitchen. I stood and shrugged, looking for the silverware and glass before setting it down on my place. "And for Merlin's sake, take off that coat. It's not that cold in here."

I chuckled and removed it, draping it over the back of my chair. She added sauce and cheese to her pasta, put some on mine and began eating. We quickly finished the meal, and I realized I was hungrier than I'd thought back at that mall.

And when we finished, she magically washed the dishes and put them away, then turned to me.

"What was it that you wanted me to accompany you for?" she asked, looking up at me expectantly, and up until then, I hadn't realized how much taller than her I was.

"I figured since you must have had some Muggle friends, you must know all about those cell phone contraption things," I said. "So I wanted you to come with me and help me pick the best one."

She looked surprised, but not in a bad way. Then she smiled and nodded. "So you'll help me?"

"Sure," she said. "I had a cell phone myself, actually, every summer since I turned thirteen, for about a month before I went back to school. I only ever used it to call my parents and a few friends, but I'm sure I can find one for you. I kept up with the latest Muggle technology, after all."

"Great," I said, smiling.

"I'll just grab my coat and we can go," she said. "I saw a booth when I went down with my Aunt a few days back, I think. But it all depends on what kind of phone you want..."

And then she launched into this complete analysis of virtually any kind of phone that existed, from the simple number pad and small screen contraption, to what they called the smart phones, which were these touch screen things that did virtually anything. And that was the only moment in my life when I ever regretted not taking Muggle Studies in Hogwarts. As we walked towards the mall, she babbled on and on about different companies and Internet data—_what is that?—_and different contracts depending on my time here, and so many other things that it was all I could do to not slap her mouth shut, just to stop a headache.

We stopped in front of a booth in the middle of the mall, a clerk flipping though a magazine looking exceptionally bored.

"This is probably the best company for here," Hermione said. She turned to the clerk, a girl in her mid-twenties, and cleared her throat. The girl looked up and stood, sighing slightly.

"What can I help you with?"

"He'd like to buy a phone," Hermione said.

The girl turned to me, her green eyes giving me a once-over, before reaching down to grab some papers.

In the end, I had what was apparently the coolest phone in the moment, some gadget called an iPhone, and it was pretty much unlimited everything, and well into what I could pay. I considered offering to buy Hermione the same phone, but realized it would seem strange to. She made a comment about coming to get her own when she had more money, and so I set that aside.

After a straight five minutes of sitting, staring at the device in my hand, wondering how the bloody hell Muggles made this without magic, Hermione gently took it from my hands and explained all the mechanisms and technology that made the phone work the way it did, then explained all about it. She was so incredibly patient, she deserved an award, I swear. Even _I_ would have smacked myself senseless if I were her.

It was almost four when she stopped yapping, and somehow we ended up standing in line for coffee.

"I'll pay for you," I said. "After all, I made you go through that grueling experience."

"Explaining the mechanisms of one of the most complex devices in everyday use in the Muggle world or spending time with you?" she deadpanned. Then she laughed. "Couldn't resist, sorry."

**Hermione PoV**

On my first day of work, I woke up and showered, changing into my uniform and making a small breakfast before heading over to the café to have a morning coffee. Around ten I went back to the apartment to clean up a bit and make sure I looked presentable, and just as I was about to start making my lunch, there was a knock on my door.

"Coming," I called out. I walked over and opened the door, and there stood Draco, handsome as ever—_don't think those thoughts!_—leaning against the doorframe, flashing me a smile.

"Hello," he said easily. "Seeing as today's your first day of work, I thought I'd be nice and go buy you lunch instead of have you cook it for yourself. And of course, I'd grace you with the amazing presence that is mine."

I laughed. "Whatever you say, you're paying." I grabbed my coat and walked out, locking up, before following him down.

He took me to this incredibly cute deli place a few blocks down from the book shop. We ate quietly had some tea, took a walk around the park to pass the time, and then he walked to me to bookstore.

And I was walking on a cloud the whole time.

_Wait—WAT._

I smiled at him as he walked out, waving, promising to come back when my shift is done.

And after my shift, there he was, sitting on the bench outside the book shop.

"Hey," he said, looking up as I touched his shoulder. "Wanna get some dinner and watch a movie?"

I laughed and nodded. "Sure." I held out my hand to help pull him up and he smiled up at me and stood, then held my hand as we walked to the tiny pizza place we'd seen walking around earlier.

After much laughter and pepperoni pizza, we went to my apartment and settled on the floor, cuddled up in a blanket, in front of the TV, watching some mindless movie about the depth of dreams and whatnot that I made a mental note to watch again later. When it was over, I walked him out, said good night and he kissed my cheek.

And this became every day routine.

**I know this was incredibly short and it's been like three months since the last update, and it will probably be _at least_ two weeks till the next, maybe, and I'm so incredibly _sorry_. I really want this story to be great, I think it's got loads of potential, and I feel if I rush it, I won't do it any justice. **

**I'm so thankful for you guys, really, thanks for reading, and, hey, send me prompts on things that you'd like to see happen, and I'll see if I can work it in! Maybe that'll get me really motivated. :) also, remember, this thing is based off a song. Speaking of said song, I heard it on Pandora last night _acoustic_ and it gave me freaking _chills_. It's amazing. **

**Thanks for reading, drop me a review ? Love ya. -Adri :)**


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